


Care

by GuiltyRed



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Gen, totally worksafe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-27
Updated: 2009-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-05 08:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/39728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuiltyRed/pseuds/GuiltyRed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse inside the silent Turk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care

There’s really no reason for it. Shinra covers all their expenses without question, and there are plenty of tailors to choose from.

Still, it’s an annoyance, a delay in the flow of things. You send something in for repair and then wait until the tailor gets around to it, usually a full day unless you happen to be lucky.

I make my own luck, and the others know it.

It started with a bemused glance in the break room, as I mended a torn pocket on my spare trousers. Nothing dramatic, just me sitting quietly with needle and thread, garment inside-out on my lap, stitching the damaged pocket into a newer, stronger life.

Elena stared a moment, an odd look on her face: half tickled, half embarassed, as though she’d caught me doing something perverse.

Then: “Could you fix my coat sleeve?”

“Sure.”

She shrugged out of her jacket and squatted down in front of me, holding the article up as if in offering. “The cuff’s gone ragged, and I was going to send it in after shift today, but then I wouldn’t have it back and the other one just doesn’t fit right.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

I finished my own work with a few quick stitches, then studied the jacket. “Give me a couple of minutes. And a cup of coffee.”

Elena smiled and hurried off to fetch my drink.

Needle and thread, weaving, tying, bonding together that which rebelled and tried to break away: I couldn’t put words to it, but there’s something mystical about the act of mending when it’s done with care.

I removed the weary strands, clipping them close so they wouldn’t foul the new. Slowly, seeking precision, I set my mark and began to sew, bringing fresh thread through tempered cloth, reminding it of its duty and its honor as I put it back to right. Bare minutes later, and the coat looked new – aside from the vaguely thin look to the collar and the scorching along one hem. The girl kept dancing with fire, one of these days she was bound to get burned.

Not really thinking about it, I reached for my box of threads. My fingers traced across the colors and textures, possibilities for any need, before settling and plucking out a small spool of teal silk. I’d bought it because it reminded me of Lifestream, a potent color and deceptively strong. Now it would mark the birth of a tradition, though I didn’t know it at the time.

I threaded a fine needle with the silk, then felt along the jacket hem. Where the fabric had gone scratchy from heat, I set to work. Rise and fall, tiny movements with all my heart behind them, I embroidered an old rune for ‘water’, strengthening the fabric with intention and silk. Magick takes many forms, and hides in the still places.

I’ve always been known for my stillness.

When done, I regarded my handiwork and smiled. The rune was so tiny she’d probably never notice it. Still, it should help protect her from the inevitable fire.

As I folded her jacket, I noticed the cooling cup of coffee on the table beside me. I smiled. Payment in full, for services rendered, and she didn’t have to wait for a bored Shinra tailor. I considered it a job well done.

* * *

“Could you take a look at this for me?”

Tseng’s favorite overcoat, the pocket tearing out at the seam – no problem.

For him, a tiny white dragon sewn deep inside the lining.

* * *

"Damn hem tore out, yo!”

Reno’s trousers, hem stepped on and tattered – a challenge, especially considering how hard he’d be on the repair.

Some fiber tape, synthetic thread, and a hidden scarlet ‘luck’ rune and they were ready for the field.

* * *

“So, partner,” Reno drawled casually, “why do you do that extra stuff?”

I glanced up over my shades. “What stuff?”

“The runes, yo. Elena pointed them out. Everything we bring to you to fix ends up decorated. We’re curious.”

An unsettling feeling of heat flooded my face and I glanced away. “They’re for protection.”

Reno’s eyes glowed with residual mako haze, the way they did when he was thinking one thing but saying another. “But why?”

I sighed, weighing my answer before giving it to him. Honesty tasted best, today. “Because you’re family, and that’s just what one does, for family.”

“Ready?” Tseng asked, securing his gear as Elena strapped herself in.

“Bird’s green if you are,” Reno replied, bringing the rotors to full take-off speed.

Tseng climbed aboard and buckled in. “Rude, the President’s life is in your hands until we return.” It felt like a ceremonial command.

I bowed in recognition of it. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t get in too much trouble, yo!” Reno said through a cockeyed grin as he coaxed the machine into the air.

I offered a silent prayer to those who listen that the three return safely. I’d done all I could, with my runes and my love. Now their fates lay ahead of them, and it was my turn to wait.


End file.
